


The Reality of Magic

by Clocksmith



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Magic and Science, Magic vs Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocksmith/pseuds/Clocksmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magic is a daydream for children; a fairytale. A trick of the senses that beings use to amaze and deceive others. So, naturally, the Doctor scoffs at the notion that it could even be a reality any more. Besides, what was there that silly old magic could do that science couldn't do one notch better?</p><p>Obviously, it's up to Clara to try and prove the old misery guts wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reality of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small piece a wrote to practice with the Doctor's latest personality, as well as his newest companion. I like to keep up to date with the TARDIS crew if I can.

“In the very early days of the universe, reality wasn’t as logical as it is now. Physics weren’t set in stone and there wasn’t any real logic to how things were meant to work. Some species still refer to the early days of the universe as the Dawning Age of Enchantment. A few of the dimmer ones even believe the universe still works that way!”

The Doctor eagerly awaited his desired reaction, a smile already curling along the edge of his lips, only to be met by an unfazed glare. He grumbled away the lack of reaction, quickly clearing his throat.

“What I’m trying to say is that some species lived out their entire lives and conducted their business based on the notion that magic was a reality. Quite frankly, something close to it was. Even the earliest Gallifreyans favoured using ritual and foresight over anything scientific. But after Rassilon began to set down the framework for logic and rationality a lot of the other species couldn’t keep up; their magic no longer made any sense to the universe, therefore it couldn’t actually be. You couldn’t just recite a poem or draw some silly picture on a wall to make the universe do what you wanted anymore.” He paused, pondering his final statement. “Well, you could try, but it wouldn’t get you very far. After a while things like magic just stopped working altogether.”

“But then you have species like the Hervoken. The Carrionites, the Ponavi and the Questrialia. Their forms of magic were actually rooted in science and methodology. There was logic to their craft; therefore there was nothing for the universe to complain about. It was just science with words instead of numbers; not magic. Everyone just thought it was.”

“That’s the difference between then and now, Clara. Way back in the beginning of everything you could have gotten away with something like magic being real; altering reality based on ritual, words and whatever other rubbish you wanted to try your hand at. Now you can’t; but you can still fool others into thinking you can.”

“So...magic used to be a thing? Like, a really real thing?”

“More or less,” the Doctor answered, absently busying his hands with the console controls. “Or something very close to it. Like I said, it stopped existing once the universe started to get its act together.”

“Is that a good thing though?” Clara asked, her face lighting at the mere prospect. “We could have had a _magical_ universe.”

“And you think it would be any more interesting than the one we have now?” The Doctor looked up from the console, a single magnificent eyebrow raised. “Haven’t you heard of Clarke’s Third Law?”

Clara thought on it a moment, sure she had. Tilting her head, she eventually answered, “’Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?’”

“Exactly. So what’s to stop the opposite from being true? Why can’t sufficiently advanced magic be indistinguishable from science?”

“Well,” Clara erred, “because it’s magic! You can do whatever you want with magic.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “You clearly haven’t seen our universe, then. No magic whatsoever and look what we can do with it! You’re in a time machine that’s bigger on the inside for Pete’s sake! There are races out there made purely from rock and fire, organic spaceships that just grow in fields and enough grizzly beasties to make the Grimm Brothers nauseous. Name me one thing you think magic can do that science can’t.”

Clara paused again, reeling through her mind as the Doctor gave her his full attention. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest and an insufferably smug smile was plastered on his face.

“Go on, then,” he goaded. “What do you think magic can do better?”

Pride forbidding her to back down, Clara stumbled through the entirety of her memory only to realise that she’d somehow forgotten everything to do with magic she’d ever known. She knew there were brilliant things magic could do; she’d seen more than enough films to lay that claim. But she couldn’t remember anything now that she needed to.

So she said the first thing that came to mind. “Santa...Claus?” she guessed, almost asking reassurance from the man challenging her. “Santa Claus,” she then stated. “Magic has Santa Claus.”

“He’s a story, Clara. What about old Saint Nicky can’t science handle?”

“He...” she began, only to smile back at the Doctor. She liked to think she mimicked his smug smile perfectly. “He has a sleigh powered by Christmas cheer.”

“I’m glad you said that; getting around every chimney in the world in one night is child’s play. But no, that’s possible.”

Clara’s eagerness faltered.

“A sleigh powered by Christmas cheer is possible? Really?” she asked plainly.

“You can power engines with anything. Tandeloni Privateers power most of their machines through mental stimuli and impulses. Wire it the right way and you can make a car that runs on happiness. Give me an afternoon and I could make a sleigh powered by cheer. An hour or two extra for Christmas cheer.”

“That can fly?”

“You’d only need three or four anti-gravity clamps. I made a double-decker bus fly once with a golden cup and a couple of minutes to glue it all together.”

“You couldn’t have the reindeers flying at the front, though.”

“Of course you can’t; reindeer can’t fly. That’s just scientific fact,” he calmly responded. “Reindeer-esque aliens from other planets can fly no problem; Hymphy are essentially reindeers with longer tails that can fly. If you’re feeling brave you could get rid of the Tandeloni engine altogether and just have them pull the whole thing. You could even have some flying sharks if you wanted to really impress the kids.”

Unwilling to be beaten, Clara spent more than one second deciding on her next piece of evidence. Okay, Santa’s stuff could be explained; that was fine. Sure, whatever. But she was not about to admit science could outplay magic. That just wasn’t possible.

“Genies,” she finally said. She’d always had a soft spot the big blue guy in Aladdin. Her arms once again found themselves firm and crossed over her chest. “You can’t have genies without magic. Science can’t just grant wishes now, can it?”

“Is that so?”

Clara, once again, felt her resolve on the matter falter. “I...thought so. Until just now.”

“At some point after the twenty-three seventies, Earth genetically engineers a species capable of granting wishes. Funnily enough, they were called Genetically Engineered Neural Imagination Engines. Or GENIEs,” he finished, smirking. “No magic.”

“Dragons,” she swiftly asked.

“Ah, the Crestiveel,” the Doctor instantly sang back. “A monstrosity so large that mountain ranges sprout from its back. Made entirely of rock and metal ore with something not unlike magma flowing through its entire body to keep it alive and moving. They can vent the flames from their mouths to fend off predators and yes; they do indeed have plenty of predators. Oh, and they fly.”

“How can something that big possibly fly?!”

“They’ve got plenty of space; Tria 4 is a very big planet,” the Doctor scoffed.

“That’s not what I-“she began, exhaling the building pressure in her lungs before it got too much for her to bear. The Doctor still stood there, that gleam in his eye that just screamed: _go on, I’m still waiting_! Her tongue rubbed hard against the edge of her teeth, itching to talk and defend her corner.

Oh, she was not going to lose.

“Magic spells,” she retorted. “Clue’s in the name.”

“You can get magic markers but you can’t play wizard with them,” the Doctor shot back, his posture rising and his back growing straight. His smile widened. “Magic spells worked on the basis that your command rewrote reality to suit your whims. I never use words but I can certainly shift the universe to my liking with science and machines. I do it every day.”

His arm shifted, yanking down a lone lever on the TARDIS console until the entire room fell into a steady rhythm at the command of the central pillar and that glorious noise. The Doctor raised a single brow as he nodded towards the gentle orange glow.

“I’m doing it right now. An impossibly large amount of code and commands – a billion magic spells – telling this big old box to carry us through the near infinite annals of time and space to a single destination. What’s more magical than that?”

“Ha!” Clara exclaimed, “But you can’t just say a few words to make yourself move through time!”

“Maybe not,” the Doctor conceded. “But how about numbers? Imagine the universe as a computer system and us as the programmes. Give me a few weeks to research and recite a precise set of numbers and I can teleport and travel through the universe as I please.”

_“W-what?”_

“Not as far as the TARDIS can take us, granted. But I could definitely carry myself a few miles. The universe is always listening, Clara. All you need is the correct sequence of events and the right mechanisms to do it. Tell it the right code and it’ll do as you say.”

“But that’s basically worse than magic!”

“Not at all,” the Doctor replied. “Magic is unrealistic; a single phrase that can turn pumpkins into porcelain carriages or transform European princesses into genetically perfect frog within seconds. The mechanisms of the universe require hours of impossibly convoluted mathematics to move you a few paces. Not a viable way to get you down to the shops by any stretch of the imagination but always there in the background. It is reliable; much better than anything close to magic.”

“So you say a few million words and you get to teleport wherever you want. That sounds a lot like magic, Doctor! Which means- ”

“It’s – it is not magic! It’s nothing like magic!” The Doctor moaned, rubbing his palms into the base of his eyes. “The TARDIS uses energy and machinery to move us around time and space, which you blindly accept. Question; what if you just did the same thing without the ship and gave the universe the same calculations and processes to go over? It would still be science. Supplementary Universal Mechanics, Clara, are _not_ magic; end of conversation.”

Clara wanted to doubt that claim, but she knew the Doctor too well to truly doubt his reasoning as to how the universe worked. It was one of the subjects he likely – and most probably did – excel at above all else.

She would just need to find something obscure he didn’t know about. Science couldn’t possibly handle everything fiction had to offer, and the old Time Lord was far more out of touch with popular culture than he cared to admit.

Then again, he probably didn’t care about popular culture at all. What could a few episodes of The Simpsons offer him that a blackboard and a good set of questions couldn’t? He probably wouldn’t know Gandalf if the old wizard’s staff bonked him on the head.

As the Doctor wandered off somewhere far into the recesses of the TARDIS, Clara let out a tired groan.

“Gandalf,” she mumbled, crestfallen. Came back to life? Check. Master of all things magical? Check. White robes that never seem to get dirty? Check. “I should have mentioned Gandalf.”


End file.
